


If I Told You

by potionsmaster



Series: Wild Card [3]
Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Biotics, F/M, Family, Gen, Interview, Love, M/M, Memories, Mindoir, Multi, Q & A, Tumblr Prompts, life - Freeform, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-03-15 10:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13611384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potionsmaster/pseuds/potionsmaster
Summary: Mark Shepard sits down for an interview, no holds barred.





	1. About Mindoir

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaxRev](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxRev/gifts).



> So people submit asks to Mark on my tumblr, and he answers them. The answers are worth knowing, I think. So here they are. If you would like to do so, _[feel free to submit a question](https://nightmarestudio606.tumblr.com/)_ and the answer will be posted there and here.

" _Commander, how do you feel about Mindoir?"_

He taps out a cigarette from his pack, brow furrowed, and the flame of the lighter _almost_  matches the dull red gleam in the back of his eyes.  They unsettle most people and he likes that they do.  Same with the scars tracing his temple and cheek on the left side of his face.

“Mindoir, huh?”

The silence is heavy as he sits and watches the smoke curl upwards from between his fingers, breathing slow and measured.  Like he always tries to make it whenever anybody brings up something uncomfortable. _Fuck it.  Why the hell not?_

“I feel…huh.  What. Do. I. Feel…”

He trails off, biting his lower lip in thought before releasing it slowly.  How _does_  he feel about it?  It’s been a damn long time since he’s actively thought about it, the stupid rush of excitement when the orders rolled in: _SOS, Colony in distress_.  And the blood-curdling chill when the location scrolled in after it: _Mindoir, Hekate System, Hades Nexus._

Home.

Not home anymore,  _unglücklicherweise[1]_.  The fuckin’ four-eyes saw to that.  Slash ‘n burn scorched earth response to some kind of slight or insult he couldn’t fathom the batarians felt justified in responding with…fuck ‘em.  Fuck them up the goddamn ass with a pineapple and no fuckin’ lube.  

That horrible day.  First mission out of basic, and it was a goddamn raid on his home planet.  And it was just his luck his unit got assigned to fuckin’ _Dion_  of all places.  Not just his home planet, but his fuckin’ _settlement_.  Whatever deity was out there had a cruel sense of humor with him.  He blinks, staring but not seeing, drawing smoke deep into his lungs and letting it drift out his nostrils.   _Drag to become a dragon_. 

Silly little thing he did for his two younger brothers, Kip and Johnny, growing up after he started stealing smokes from their father.  Imitated the way they saw him smoke.  The way they laughed at it, egged him on behind the shed so Vati wouldn’t see, or Mama.   _“Be a dragon!  Do it again!”_   What he wouldn’t give to hear those words, those voices, once more.  Happier times.

He blinks again, flicking the ash.

They never found Kip.  Or Vati.  Who knew what the fuck happened to them, or where they were.  He couldn’t bring himself to have the audacity to hope they survived.  Survived for fuckin’ what?  Bein’ chipped and collared like goddamn dogs, lost to the slave trade?   _Fuck that shit_.  No.  They were dead.  They had to be.  It was the last bit of mercy he had to believe they’d gotten.  What else could that giant bloodstain on the stairs up to the bedrooms have been?  At least he’d found the others.

The smell had been atrocious, different inside the house than the acrid stench in the streets, like spoiled meat and shit.  Rotten.  Gore was splashed everywhere, her head tilted back at an unnatural angle, skin and throat split in a vile, crimson grin, garrote still cinched around her neck.  Johnny had collapsed face-first in her arms, mouth open in a little ‘O’ of surprise and back filled with buckshot.  Almost like he was startled to find himself dying.  He remembered the bile rising in the back of his throat when he entered the room.

He couldn’t help it; he broke protocol and tossed his helmet onto his old bed and heaved his guts in the hallway until nothing was left.  Half of his mother’s face was missing, hidden from the view from the doorway by the tangled bloody mat of her hair.  Johnny’s crystal blue eyes, so similar to his own, to Vati’s, were glazed and milky.  Unseeing.

 _No_.

Rage washes over him at the horror of what he found in his house, his bedroom.  The unfairness of it all.  The bitterness of knowing that he was the last, that nobody would care if he came home for shore leave.  Never again would he surprise his brothers with a water gun attack.  Taste his mother’s oatmeal raisin cookies.  Work in comfortable silence in the shop with his father, handing him tools and laughing at the swears Vati muttered _auf Deutsche[2]_  under his breath in hopes that either Mark wouldn’t hear, wouldn’t understand, or failing those, wouldn’t rat him out to Mama.  

He breathes deep, focusing on the slow dance of smoke in front of him.  It calms him down to watch the meandering trail dissipate in the air.   _Let the memories follow_.  White static takes over his thoughts as he lets his mind go blank.  Blessed relief.  Fuckin’ Mindoir.  The familiar coldness started settling back in, locking the anger back behind his rib cage, easing the fire within.  He can breathe again, comfortable once more.    

Numb.

This is what he prefers.  To feel nothing.   _Rage is a hell of an anesthetic._   Thanks to Zaeed for those wise words of wisdom.  Truer words never spake.  He exhales slowly through his nose, smoke and anger and haunting images evaporating into the ether, and he locks eyes with his querent, voice dangerous and quiet.  

_“…I don’t.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Glossary:_
> 
>  
> 
> [1] unfortunately  
> [2] in German


	2. About Finding Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tumblr ask from the illustrious ThreeWhiskeyLunch! 
> 
> Ok, so Johnny has a hard question for Mark (don't think about him being dead, I guess??) and what would he do if he ever found out that their dad and Kip had indeed been taken by slavers. Johnny admits (in the universe where he survives), that whenever he's on Omega or Illium or such places that slavery is common, that he keeps one eye out for them. Does Mark do that too? Or does he just not want to think about it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...the intent was to kinda make this seem like he was getting fan mail or questions from journalists or news anchors or whatever, but then _this_ happened, lol. THANKS, WHISKEY!!! You made a freakin' semi-plot appear.

The question from earlier had put him in a ‘mood’.  A _drinking_ mood specifically, he thinks dully, looking at the mostly-gone fifth of rum in his hand before taking another swig.  The first empty bottle was on the counter in the kitchen, waiting to be rinsed out for recycling.  He doesn’t really remember finishing it.  How he winds up sitting on the bathroom floor he doesn’t quite remember, either, but it doesn’t matter.  Not really.  The cold tile presses into his back, propping him up and keeping him grounded in what he thinks is reality.

 _“Lass mich in Ruhe, kleiner Bruder…”_ [1]

What matters is his brother Johnny is staring back at him in the mirror.  His voice echoes in the semi-darkness, a dry whisper coming from a dead mouth and glowing red eyes.

“Why should I?  You always let me in when we were younger.  When I needed you.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Am I not?  I need you _now_.”

He takes another pull from the bottle, eyes fixed on the haunting image in the mirror.  Johnny.  Dead Johnny.  Maybe demon Johnny would be better, since the last time he saw him, he was 16 and a bloated corpse.   _Sixteen forever._  This Johnny is grown, with hellfire lighting his eyes from within.

“No, you don’t. _Why?_  You haven’t needed me for _years_.  Why now?”

“Because you called me.”

“ _Hab ich_ nicht, _Dämon_.” [2]

“You _did_ , but that’s ok. Mama always said you argued too much.  She sends her love, by the way.”

“ _Halt’s maul, Arschloch_. [3] You don’t get to say shit like that to me.”

“Oh?  It’s still true, y’know.  That doesn’t answer my question, though.”

Mark looks down at the bottle in his hand again, unable to stare at his brother with his face anymore.  “I…” he falters, tongue thick in his mouth, “… _ich weiss nicht._ [4]  They can’t be.  They just _can’t_ , Johnny, I’d go fuckin’ _insane_ …even deeper in the abyss.  The thought of them _alive_ , after all this time?  Treated like that?  They’re not people anymore, Johnny.  They’re _dead_.  They’re fuckin’  _dead_ and just don’t know enough to lay down yet, or can’t, I don’t fuckin’ know. Like Talitha.  Like me.”  He swallows hard, contemplating another swallow before continuing, voice soft in the heavy silence.  “…they have to be.  I couldn’t bear it otherwise.  Knowing what happened to the ones they took…”

Johnny shifts against the wall he’s leaning against, cocking his head to the side.  “But don’t you look for them?” his sweet voice asks, clawing at Mark’s brain. “Don’t you want to _know_?”

_“NO!”_

He hurls the bottle at the mirror and the glass shatters, multiple demon eyes gleaming at him before the glass falls.  His knees are sharp against his forehead as he tries to forget, tries to control his racing heartbeat and heaving chest.  Ragged breathing perforates the air.  He doesn’t know if it’s his or not.

“…Baby?”  Another voice, just as sweet in his ears but not nearly so terrifying, calls out.  “Baby, where are you?”

“ _Hier drin_.” [5]

He doesn’t know if she hears him or not; he presses his face harder against his knees.  Even with his eyes closed, he still sees Johnny.  Maybe even clearer than when he had his eyes open, he thinks dully.  A gentle hand touches his trembling shoulder.

“I heard a crash.   _Caro_ , what’s wrong?  Why are you shaking?”  The weight of her hand on his shoulder lifts a bit as she looks around the room.  “Mark?”  He can’t speak, pulse rushing through his ears as his blood chases itself around his body.  Soft, small hands cup his cheek, gentle fingers caressing his scars as she tugs his face up.  His wife is crouching in front of him, concern pinching the skin between her eyebrows.  “Baby, what _happened_?  Talk to me.”

Their eyes lock together, a momentary respite from the voices whispering in his skull from his family, voices he desperately wanted to hear but afraid to at the same time.  He never thought it was a bad thing no family vids had survived the raid.  No moving avatars of his family to taunt him, no memorials of their words, their laughter.  Nothing left to tie him down any more than he already is by their memory.  

“…I saw Johnny.  And he wanted to talk.  Told him ‘no’.”

His voice is steadier than he thinks it would be, all things considered.  Kate blinks at him.  “What did he want to talk about?” she asks softly, thumb tracing over his cheekbone.

“Things best left dead and buried.”

“Oh, _caro_ …” she quietly sighs, drawing him to her, his face in her chest.  Her heartbeat is strong and steady, calming his own racing one as they breathe together.  He presses his forehead hard against her shoulder, willing the image burned on the back of his eyelids to be gone.  Gentle fingers slip up the back of his neck, stroking his hair and further allowing himself to ignore the ghosts in his head.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:
> 
> [1] Leave me alone, little brother
> 
> [2] I did not, demon
> 
> [3] Shut the fuck up, asshole
> 
> [4] I don’t know
> 
> [5] In here


	3. About Biotics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, Mark is in a closed poly quad. You'll see stories of him and all his primary boos popping up in various combos in the months to come, lol. He mentions them all here, though, and I didn't want to confuse anybody. Also, this references the story _[The Hunted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108594/chapters/27454971)_

_“Commander, how do you feel about your biotics? Why such tight control?”_

 

He blinks, brow furrowing in thought at the question blinking on his console in his office.   _Good question_.  There are a lot of good questions in his inbox, come to think of it, since he had made the remark on ANN that he tries to answer anything and everything as truthfully as he can whenever people send him mail or question him out in public.    _'_ _It doesn’t matter if they ask personal shi-um.  Stuff. Or not. If they go through the trouble and work up the nerve to ask, why the hell not.’_  He isn’t sure he regrets being so flippant about it or not, but he holds himself to his personal promise, ridiculous as it seems now.  He mutters his answer aloud as he types.

“My biotics?  Uh...I dunno, I feel...fine about them?  Not really sure what you’re lookin’ for, if I’m to be frank.”

“I’d prefer you to be ‘Mark’,” an amused, husky voice calls out.  

“Fuck you, too, Kaid…”

“Well, you certainly did last night,” comes the still-amused answer, this time from behind crossed arms and warm brown eyes with smile wrinkles in the corners as the owner of it all leaned his hip against Mark’s desk next to him.  “And you weren’t even calling yourself ‘Frank’ then.”

“Hilarious,” Mark grumbles, fixing him with a scowl and resting his hands on Kaidan’s hips as Kaidan pushes the chair he’s sitting in away from the desk and straddles him. “If I ever meet this ‘Frank’ person, I’ll be sure to give him a piece of my mind.”  

“Mm.  I hope you do.  Because I would find _that_ hilarious.  You’d be arguing with yourself, and that alone would be hysterical to watch.”

“You’re bein’ an evil distraction right now.”

“No, I’m helping you to _relax_.  Relaxing will help you _focus_ …” the older man teases gently, resting his arms on Mark’s shoulders.  

“Uh-huh.  Smooth.”

Kaidan huffs a small laugh before pressing a small kiss on the tip of his nose.  “In short, you’re not really answering it because you’re skirting it in your classic ‘Commander Shepard’ style.  So stop it. And think.”

“‘Bout what?”

“Well...when they first manifested, how did you feel?  What did you think? What was it like?” Kaidan lightly digs his thumbs into the muscle between Mark’s shoulders and neck, smoothing out the tense spots.

“I...well, I knew I wasn’t ‘normal’ early on.  Stuff would move around the house if I was upset.  Pictures rattled on the walls, plates ’n shit shakin’ in the cupboards.  It was a bit scary, I guess. I mean, first I really remembered that shit happenin’, I was five? Ish?  Maybe?” He shrugs. “I dunno. First time I flared was somethin’ else. Kids at school freaked out. Guess I really can’t blame ‘em.”   

“And then what?”

Mark groans and lets his head fall back, relaxing slowly in increments.  “You always seem to know just the spots.” A slow grin spreads on Kaidan’s face.  “Uh. I didn’t really appreciate bein’ different. I was already gettin’ picked on for being so damn tall.  Was a lot thinner, then, too, though I suppose that was the biotic metabolism I didn’t know I had. We never went without back home, but...sometimes things were _lean_ , know what I’m sayin’?” Kaidan nods, still rubbing his shoulders. “Always thought it was a bit unfair of the other kids.  They’d pick fights, tryin’ to get me to flare. Guess it was a cheap thrill for them. Wound up with a few bruises and black eyes, and Mama would complain to the school board, but nothin’ big ever came out of it.  Then Kip’s became known, and I felt like I had to be strong for him. Instead of bein’ scared of ‘em and avoidin’ them, I guess that gave me a reason to accept that they were part of me and I started deliberately tryin’ to control them and myself.  The asari at the requisitions store Mom managed was, ah... _helpful_ in that endeavor.”

Kaidan gives snort of amusement at that.  “Let me guess how, horn dog,” he teases, brushing the tips of their noses together.  Heat flushes Mark’s ears and down the back of his neck. “So you felt fine about them after that?”

“Yeah.  Much easier to control when I stopped bein’ afraid of ‘em and found my limits.  And then found new ones. Couldn’t really get much goin’ with them until after my amp, though.  Thank you, Alliance. The boost after that… _whoosh_.  Never knew I could do half the shit it enables me to do, heh.”  Mark tucks his thumbs under the edge of Kaidan’s waistband, tracing his skin along the top of the cloth.

“Are you afraid of them _now_ , though?” Kaidan asks, words whispering along Mark’s cheek as the other man moved to nip his ear. “You never let them go if you can help it, I’ve noticed.  Especially in bed. You always damp them down the second they start to go. And they only ever do when one of us flares first and we’re touching you.”

The blush on Mark’s ears intensifies.  “Hey, now. Sympathetic response. Always been like that; someone has ‘em active and brushes me, _foomp_ , mine are right there.  Can’t help that and it drives me batshit.  I don’t hold back on the battlefield, though.  And I wouldn’t say ‘afraid’. ‘Cautious’ is a better word, I think…” Mark replies, tipping his head to the side and dragging Kaidan forward on his lap, brow furrowing in pensive thought.  “It...all has to do with what I know, and what I learned, and knowin’ the possible outcomes...Ta’Leah wasn’t the only asari who taught me things.” His voice quiets, eyes searching Kaidan’s face.  “I would never want to hurt you. _Any_ of you.  And that means they get locked down tight.  I never want to see what happens if I lose control of ‘em, and you, or Kate, or Jake, get caught in the crossfire.  So I keep a lid on them everywhere but where they belong: Battle.”

“Babe, I trust you.   _We_ trust you.  And we’ve all seen it on the field.  You’re not going to hurt us.”

“Says you,” Mark snorts.  “Would never be able to forgive myself if I did.  So in the box they go.”

“Alright, well.  If that’s what it takes to make you feel better, I guess I can’t begrudge you that.” Kaidan kisses the tip of his nose again and stands up.  “I’m the last person who should be poking at someone wanting control of their biotics. And hey! It looks like you now have your answer.” He points to the screen.  “Talk to text managed to catch it. Go figure.”

Mark scowls and hits ‘stop’ on the console as Kaidan chuckles.  “Real smooth, sneaky bastard. Didn’t even see you hit the button.”

“There’s a purpose to my being an evil distraction, as you so quaintly put it.  All you have to do now is clean it up,” he calls over his shoulder as he walks away.  “You’re welcome.”

Mark sighs and scooches the chair forward under the desk again, reading back.  Kaidan has a point, though it brings up memories he isn’t so certain he wants to think about anymore.  He finalizes the answer and sends it to the querent, looking at the next one waiting in the inbox. It seems he’ll have to think on it anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
